


life's not a game of solitaire

by RenderedReversed



Series: this ain't no fairytale [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Item Shop AU, M/M, Recettear AU, adventurer!Tom, best read in series order, shopkeeper!sorcerer!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 07:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8658148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: Due to the rising popularity of Hedwig’s General Store, Harry comes to a startling realization: he needs help. Enter Colin Creevey, hopefully the solution to all of Harry’s problems.





	

_I don’t have enough time_ , Harry thinks when he realizes the project he’s been working on has sat in the corner for a week untouched.

He needs to plan dungeon dives. He needs to keep up with the market. He needs to craft, needs to keep Hedwig’s relevant and interesting. He also needs time to rest, because Harry did not leave the adventuring life to jump from one fire to another. He just needs time, and there’s not enough time in one day to do all of this.

What he needs is _help_.

So, the very next day, he puts up a HELP WANTED sign in the corner of the storefront window and hopes he doesn’t get anyone too shady, or drunk—actually, he would prefer if his help wasn’t an adventurer. Tom is quite enough already.

He hopes this works. It’s one thing to open a shop; it’s a whole other thing to manage an employee.

* * *

Harry meets his savior three days later. He’s a bit…young, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, Harry doesn’t think he has a right to say anything about age. He technically started working before socially acceptable.

“Hi I’m Colin Creevey and I saw you were looking to hire a cashier? I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’m willing to learn. I worked at my dad’s stall selling milk once or twice during the hols, and I help out with the cows on the ranch when he needs a hand. I know you don’t need much of a rancher, but—”

So, the kid’s a bit chatty—no problem. Harry can work with that; better chatty than bratty, he figures.

Harry holds up a hand to stop him. “How old are you?” he asks. Colin isn’t overly short; he’s just lanky, with too thin arms and ill-fitting clothes that try to hide what can’t be seen.

“I’m sixteen, sir,” the boy answers promptly. Then he stands there waiting for Harry’s evaluation, the closest to perfect picture of obedience a teenage boy can get. He’s a little rough on the manners—fidgeting behind one’s back is still fidgeting—but Harry doesn’t care much for those anyway. Colin seems friendly enough.

Sixteen is better than the thirteen he was guesstimating, anyway.

Harry nods. “We’ll try it out. My starting wage is thirteen sickles per hour, if you’re willing.”

At his acquiescence, Colin’s eyes light up. “Oh, definitely! Of course! Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down! Pa will be so happy—”

He holds up his hand again, and Colin quiets. Harry is kind of amused—he feels powerful in an entirely different way than usual. “I got it; slow down there,” he says, trying to tell him gently. “Here, I reward actions, not lip service. If you do good work, I reward good work. Come by tomorrow at seven in the morning if you’re ready.”

Colin stares at him, boyishness the least prominent part of his expression. There is a bit of wonder, a bit of caution, a bit of eagerness still within his eyes. And then, he smiles.

“Yes, sir!”

Harry’s thoughts segue to his ward stone. This will be a test for him, too.

* * *

Colin arrives ten minutes early, and Harry doesn’t give him time to consider if he should knock or wait. He opens the door, lets him in, and shuts it again. Hedwig’s opens at eight today.

He watches the kid turn his head this way and that, trying to take in the displays now that the store is empty of people. It is quiet, and Harry knows that gives it a different feel than when the door’s propped open and people come and go.

“I don’t recognize you as a customer,” Harry finally says.

Colin immediately spins around. “Oh, no, I don’t—is that—is that okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” he agrees, “but that means you’ll have to get acquainted with the layout. I’ll show you.” He motions him over to the front desk. “As cashier, this is where you’ll be. The first week is training, so I’ll be here too.”

Colin nods. Harry continues, “Most customers will know what they want when they come in. You’ll either direct them to where it is, sell it to them if they’re paying, or tell them we don’t have it. As for the price, we can haggle for some things, and not for others. Regular potions, for example, sell at one price. That’s only fair. Most other things, like equipment or books, are fair game.”

“But, how do I know what to sell it for?” asks Colin.

“Hedwig’s sets the price,” Harry replies. “You won’t remember it all right away, but that’s alright. You’ll see how it goes when the shop opens. Sometimes, people want to sell their goods, and we’ll buy it most of the time. These customers can always be bargained with. I’ll teach you more on that once we get an example.”

He waits a moment for questions, but Colin has none. Harry nods and moves on. “Sometimes, adventurers will need something appraised, too. Appraisals are for monster parts or strange equipment, ten knuts per item. You can leave that to me. After the week is over, I’ll give you something to call me with.”

Harry looks around the shop. What else was there… _ah._

“This is the register. Most people aren’t going to sell something absurdly expensive in the morning, so there should be enough money in it to do transactions—set amount every day. If there isn’t, call me. All sales are recorded, as is required by law, but you don’t have to worry about that since I hired a sorcerer to put a magic system in place. We’ve also got burglar alarms and other safety measures on the door, so don’t worry about robberies.”

“Is the register magic, too?” Colin asks. He had perked up at the mention of magic, despite being magicless himself.

Harry pauses for a split second before replying, “Nah, it’s as mundane as you can get. Don’t have enough capital for that type of investment yet. The alarms blew me out. Well, safety first, you know.”

Colin nods emphatically. “Buying a sorcerer’s service is really expensive. All the reputable sorcerers charge a small fortune, too. And if they can’t do it, they still expect you to pay!”

“It’s the way of the world, unfortunately,” Harry says with a sigh. “Magic is so useful, but you wouldn’t want to hire a phony. You get what you pay for, I guess.”

Colin shrugs, and mumbles a soft, “Not always.”

Harry pretends he doesn’t notice. “Well then,” he begins, clapping his hands, “I’ll show you where everything is. By the time we’re done with that, it should be opening time…”

* * *

Colin does pretty well his first day. Harry is surprised by how sharp the kid is—he takes all the examples he sees and absorbs it like a sponge. By the end of his shift, he’s already memorized the potion prices and the according discounts on bulk purchases.

It’s some time on the second day that Harry realizes something important. Colin is a visual learner. Physically dealing with the items has been more valuable than a small description, so Harry adapts accordingly and makes a cheat sheet for his new employee. It’s a list with the items he usually has in stock (with their picture), their base price, and then a colored number line with percentages for haggling.

(He also charms it to be nonsense to anyone other than Colin and himself. No need to reveal his recipe for success to anyone, right?)

Kid’s got good eyes, too. He notices the faults of an item before the seller has even finished advertising it, giving him an unexpected sixth sense for scams. Harry definitely does not mind this sort of cashier. Despite how naïve he seemed at first, Colin has potential.

On the third day, the woman-and-daughter duo walk into his shop. They smile and wave over at Harry, and Harry waves back but doesn’t say hello yet. He leaves them to their shopping, and only when they’ve come up to the register does he greet them verbally.

“Good morning,” the woman says.

Harry smiles. “Hello again. Did you find everything you need?”

“Yes, just fine. Oh, who’s this?” She looks over at Colin. “You look familiar. Oh, wait! You’re the painter boy, aren’t you?”

Harry watches with interest as Colin pales and stutters. “Ah, uh—no, you must be—”

The woman, bless her heart, doesn’t get a clue. She smiles again, the smile of a mother. Her question is soft. “How’s your brother doing?”

“He’s—” Colin forces a smile back, “—doing…okay. Yes, he’s doing alright. He, uh, says hello.”

“That’s good. I hope he’s feeling better… He’s such a sweet boy. You’re not selling paintings anymore?”

“He’s Hedwig’s new cashier,” Harry says.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” the woman replies, and then directs her attention back to said new cashier. “How much for this?” She looks so genuinely happy for Colin that the kid doesn’t even notice he does the whole transaction on his own.

Harry wonders if he should investigate or not. Then he wonders if he’s made the right choice, choosing not to.

* * *

Of course, it would be impossible for Colin to never run into Tom.

Harry sometimes forgets that Tom knows how to glare. He’s usually on the more pleasant side of deceptive. Not to mention, Tom is his friend—his friend who has never forgotten the one who saved his life (regardless of how Harry feels about that fact). He doesn’t see very many glares, even when he does something stupid like panic over ingredients.

But, well, here it is—Tom’s rarely seen glare, working to great effect on Harry’s poor cashier.

He gives Colin a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It doesn’t really work; the kid flinches, and then looks beseechingly at Harry like he’s a fish on a cutting board. _Help_ , the look says, _I don’t want to die this young._

“Hi Tom,” Harry says instead. “Would you not spook my new employee? Thanks.”

This doesn’t work either.

“New employee?” Tom drawls, eyes fixed on Colin. _Poor kid._

“I’m training him,” Harry states. When that doesn’t affect Tom, Harry moves around the counter to stand in front of him, arms crossed and unamused. “Problem?”

Tom stops. He gives him a curious look before finally saying, “Of course not, darling.” It’s obviously a lie—Tom doesn’t even smile—but Harry allows it because he’s not going to ask a friend to change himself on command. Instead, he tries to ignore the stupid pet name and wonders how this is his life.

Harry drops his arms. “This is Colin Creevey,” he says. “Be nice. Please.”

“I’m always nice,” claims Tom. He finally smiles—at Harry, of course. “In fact, to prove it to you, I’ll make dinner tonight.”

“That doesn’t prove _anything_.”

“Of course it does,” says Tom. He gives Harry a belittling pat on the head. “They were having a bake sale in front of the Adventurer’s Guild today. I thought you might like some.”

Harry blinks. “Oh, thanks,” he says, and takes the proffered bag of sweets. “This doesn’t give you an excuse to be mean, though.”

“No, I just like seeing you happy.”

That is…suspicious, very suspicious. Harry gives him a hard stare, trying to see if his expression would crack under the pressure, but Tom was either an award-winning actor in his past life or he’s now secretly a golem, because he doesn’t budge one bit. So, Harry decides to go with the safest option: assume it’s good-natured sarcasm.

Tom, Harry figures, is much like a shark. If he smells blood, he will relentlessly pursue his prey, smiling all the while. Therefore, Harry cannot let Tom sense weakness—he’ll be teased to death otherwise.

“Sure,” Harry says, hoping it’s just as sarcastic as Tom was. Then, lifting the bag of sweets, he asks, “These are safe to eat, right?”

Instead of a verbal reply, Tom takes a cookie out of the bag and takes a bite for himself. Then he offers the rest of it to Harry’s mouth.

He tries it. It’s nice and sweet and oatmeal raisin, and good Merlin bless Tom. Bless soft cookies, too; how anyone could enjoy crunching on a cookie like it's a deep fried crispy chicken wing boggles his mind. Team soft cookie or go home.

“Bless your soul,” he in fact says. “These are really good. Who’s having a bake sale at the Adventurer’s Guild—?”

Tom doesn’t answer. Instead, he smiles like cats and cream and a nap well-deserved before saying, “It’s good that you like them. I’ll see you later, Harry.”

“Oh, bye. Thanks again!”

Tom waves, his back already turned.

Harry watches him go, and then shrugs. He’ll ask him again later. “Want one?” he says, offering a cookie to Colin.

Colin takes it, both baffled and scared. Harry hopes the cookie calms his down. “W-who was that?” he asks.

“Just Tom,” answers Harry. “He’s an adventurer—er, the adventurer who dungeon dives for us. You’ll be seeing him quite often—”

The kid looks terrified. Harry sighs. “Don’t worry. He’s just…um. Tom’s all bark and no bite, yeah, that’s it. He’d never seriously hurt you—I’d throw him out of the shop if he did.” Little does Colin know, only the last part isn’t a lie. That should be okay though, since the last part is the important part.

Colin gulps, and then nods. “Is he a customer, sir?” he asks tentatively.

“Sometimes, yes. Usually for potions though, so you don’t need to haggle.”

There is an audible sigh of relief. Harry laughs. “Just think of it this way: Tom’s the most terrifying customer you’ll meet. Everyone else? That’s comparing puppies to a wolf. If you can handle Tom, there’s no one you can’t do business with.”

Midway through eating his cookie, Colin nods vigorously. “So it was a test? That was brilliant! I understand, sir; thank you for the lesson. I won’t let you down!”

Well, Harry thinks, a little misunderstanding is good for the soul—er, or is that supposed to be laughter…

 _It’ll be fine_ , he decides, and then winces right after the thought. Harry’s not superstitious per se, but every time he’s ever thought that, things do not go fine. In fact, they go the exact opposite of fine, but.

Harry looks at Colin, diligently studying his cheat sheet while waiting for the next customer.

 _It’ll be fine_ , he repeats, for sure this time.

**Author's Note:**

> You know, I thought about making this installment 2x longer. Then I thought that was too bulky, so I thought about (hypothetically) making it two parts...but that didn't feel right either. What a waste of all this delicious foreshadowing. So instead, everyone gets to wait a teensy bit longer for the culmination of this little subplot....^_~v This also means we get our action later, but don't worry, hopefully I'll come up with something satisfying for the interim.
> 
> We had **one** person correctly guess Colin in _think out loud_. As fate would have it, it was...a Guest!! That person was a god, man. By the beginning guesses, I didn't think anyone would get it (everyone was moving in the realm of Death Eaters and Really Dark Stuff).
> 
> Side note I'm having a lot of fun coming up with these nonsensical titles. It's kind of addicting...
> 
> Happy belated Turkey Day!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [life's not a game of solitaire (podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11571120) by [MTKiseki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTKiseki/pseuds/MTKiseki)




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